


Close Your Eyes, Come With Me

by trevorisscreaming



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Ableism, Canon Era, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Jack is Stupid and Mean, M/M, Medda is Jack's mom lol, Minor Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, more to add as I think of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-06-21 04:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15549129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trevorisscreaming/pseuds/trevorisscreaming
Summary: Do you want to read a slow-burn, slice-of-life, canon-era Newsies fanfiction? Then you've come to the right place.If not, read it anyway to stroke my ego (and to laugh at my awful attempts at historical accuracy).This centers around Jackcrutchie, and it's all from Jack's POV. Javid gets all the attention. Let me live.((DISCLAIMER: There's a lot of ableist slurs and speech here, even outside of Crutchie being called... well, Crutchie. If that triggers you please don't read. Since it's from Jack's perspective, these slurs are in the narrative. But please remember this is from Jack's perspective, not mine! I wouldn't use those words and I'm well aware they're offensive. Thanks for reading!))





	1. Chapter 1

It had reached the late point in the year when the air started to bite just a bit. Jack wandered the streets just to stretch his legs, hoping to scope out some thing or some place he might use to keep warm for a while longer until he absolutely had to stay inside.

As he passed an alleyway, there was a sudden movement on the ground. Startled, Jack whirled to face the source. There was a badly beaten blond boy about his age on the ground in the dirt. He was clearly trying to hide himself, but they'd already made eye contact. Jack took a few steps forward, opening his mouth to introduce himself and offer help. But the boy on the ground spoke before Jack could.

"I ain't got nothin' left ta steal, so if you's just here ta beat me up, do ya worst!" He said defiantly. 

Well, that explained the kid's injuries. "If ya got nothin' ta steal, what's the fun in beatin' ya up?" Jack replied light-heartedly. He offered a hand. "How's about I help ya up instead?" The boy stared at Jack's hand, seeming embarrassed. "C'mon. It ain't gonna bite'cha."

"I... Can't walk too good is all," the boy mumbled.

"They mess you up that bad?"

He fidgeted, uncomfortable. "Uh, no. I been like this."

"Can't walk, huh?" If Jack were in that position, he wouldn't want pity or to be carried like a baby. "Stay right there."

"Oh, I ain't goin' nowhere," the boy said sarcastically. Jack cringed at his own thoughtless statement.

Time was against him as he searched and searched every trash bin and pile. There had to be something for a crip to prop himself up on temporarily until they found a permanent solution. Jack cursed to himself. Another night until it was going to be too cold to close his eyes without fear they'd freeze that way. But this kid had it worse. Only thing that could be worse than being cold would be being cold and crippled. So he powered through his frustration for the sake of sympathy. What a good little heart he had in his chest. He rolled his eyes at himself. Look how far that had gotten him.

Irritated, Jack shoved over a whole barrel of garbage. Paper and scraps of food spilled out onto the street. A rat poked its head out of the barrel then ran away quickly. His eyes followed the rat as it scampered down the street and into a new barrel. Sticking out of that barrel was a very bent cane. Ha!

"Thanks, little guy," Jack said to the now out-of-sight rat, tugging the cane out of the garbage. Not much, but it would do for now.

It had gotten darker. Jack jogged back the couple blocks to the alley he'd found the kid in. Anyone passing by who wasn't looking for him wouldn't notice. His back was visible, but with a shirt that torn and dirty he blended in with the trash.

"Hey, gotcha somethin'," Jack said as he came to a stop in the alleyway.

The boy startled and sat up, wincing. "Oh. I was noddin' off there."

Jack stood the cane up and held it steady, offering it to the boy. He seemed to have a strong spirit, and Jack doubted he'd take kindly to being dragged up or coddled. He wanted to give him a chance to use his strength. While Jack held the cane firmly planted in place, the boy pulled himself up on it slowly. He tucked it close to his side and leaned on it heavy. What the kid really needed was a crutch.

"Best I got for now. We'll find ya somethin' better soon," Jack said.

""We,' huh? You plan on stickin' around?" It sounded like it was supposed to be a joke, but the boy was clearly guarded.

"Name's Jack, Jack Kelly. You?"

The boy fidgeted and hesitated again. "Eh, family name's Morris. But I ain't got a proper name that I remember."

"No folks to remind ya?"

The boy shook his head wordlessly.

"So whatcha tryin' ta tell me here is that you's sleepin' on the street with a bum leg takin' beatings without flinchin' and ya got no family?"

The boy shrugged. "So?"

"So? So you're a regular miracle. Is'a wonder you're alive. 'Course I plan on stickin' around. No way I want someone as strong as you ta be any less than my friend. That's a risk I ain't willin' ta take. I gotta have you on my side."

The boy smiled a little. "Alright, Jack. I'll consider it. Might have ta give it some thought. Ain't just anyone can get on my good side so quick. Gotta prove you's worthy of my time, with me bein' all strong and kingly."

Jack grinned. "Gotta place ta stay, tough guy?"

"Oh, a'course. I just like ta curl up in the trash for fun," the boy's weak smile spread to match Jack's grin.

"Strong and wise. I bow to ya," Jack replied. He nodded at the boy's leg. "Think you can drag that thing up a ladder or two?"

"I can give it a try," he said with glimmer of hope in his eye.

Jack gestured for him to follow. They made a slow progression to Jack's usual resting place. The poor kid was clearly in a hell of a lot of pain once they got there, the ladder definitely out of the question. It was also late, so going inside and having this kid's first impression of everyone be griping wouldn't be the best idea.

"Well, I'm pretty beat," he said nonchalantly. "Dunno if I'm feelin' the climb tonight. Rather sleep on the ground. Feel free to head on up without me shouldja feel so inclined."

The boy plopped down, playing along. "I couldn't bare leavin' you down here all alone."

Jack sat beside him. "I 'preciate it. Say, since you's my charity case and all now, maybe I'll name ya."

"I'll use this cane ta make ya someone else's charity case if ya don't quit with that there. And I ain'tcha pet," he warned, though his tone was light-hearted and joking.

"Guess I'll hafta resist the urge ta scratch behind ya ears."

The boy chuckled. "Yeah.... But truthfully. Ain't been called nothin' but different versions a 'crip' since my memory goes. Called me the Alley Cripple back where I was, the shopkeepers and boys around there," he shrugged. "Or just Alley. Morris. Plain ol' crip. Some of 'em was creative."

Jack scoffed. "Yeah, real creative. Betcha I can come up with a million other ways ta call ya a crip that ain't no one thought of before."

The boy raised a brow. "Go ahead and try. I heard 'em all."

Jack looked him over for inspiration, but got distracted by that bent up cane. Maybe he could get a crutch prop from the theater. It was at least a step up.

"How's about... Crutchie," Jack looked up to the boy's face again. "Heard that one?"

The boy thought for a minute. "Well no, but I ain't had a crutch since I was real small."

"Guess we'll hafta getcha one, then," Jack said.

"Alright," he nodded in reply. "'Crutchie.' Yeah. But what'll I tell folks if they asks for my real name?"

Jack shrugged. "You could always try tellin' 'em to mind their own."

He beamed at Jack. "You's always this clever?"

Jack tried not to smile. "Always. Don'tcha dare forget it."

"'Crutchie,'" He said mostly to himself, still smiling. "'Crutchie Morris.' He's a lucky guy."

Jack tilted his head. "How do ya figure?"

"His very first friend is the cleverest guy in all a New York."


	2. Chapter 2

The other boys took Crutchie as one of their own from day one, Though he didn't get much work done for a week or so as he healed up from the attack Jack had found him after, once they managed to get him a crutch that leg didn't hold him back a bit. He worked just as hard as all the other guys, walking for hours and miles. In spite of the sarcasm, Jack truly was impressed with his strength and resilience. Sure he seemed to match pace with everyone else, but he had to work twice as hard to get there. To Jack, that's what made him superior. And he did it all without a word of complaint, contagious smile always plastered on his face.

"Hey, Jack!" Crutchie called from the ground. "Catch!"

Jack crawled over the edge of the ladder and reached down. Crutchie tossed his crutch up. It almost slipped out of Jack's hands and he lurched forward to catch it. Crutchie began the struggle up. Once he was within Jack's reach, he reached up his hand. Jack took it firmly and helped pull him up the last bit.

"How's business?" Crutchie asked, slightly out of breath.

"Tsh, whattaya think?" Jack answered. He stood and walked to lean over the railing.

Crutchie hummed in reply. He sat on the edge of the ladder, feet dangling over, and counted his day's pay. Jack looked over and watched him, frowning in concern when Crutchie frowned in frustration. Crutchie looked into his bag and sighed. Jack could see he hadn't sold as much as usual, so he glanced back to the coins in Crutchie's hands and tried counting them from a distance. Jack was always fighting down urges to jump in and help. From the moment they'd met Jack knew Crutchie was determined to be independent. But Jack just couldn't help himself. That damn heart of his.

Jack let out a faked heavy sigh, taking out his own pay and pacing as he counted it. Each time he had his back to Crutchie, he hid a coin or two in a weird place in his clothes. Once he only had a little left in his hands, he made his way back to his spot from before, feigning stress by blowing out a breath slowly and running a hand through his hair.

"Somethin' wrong, Jack?" Crutchie asked.

"Didn't do so well today is all. And I was gettin' hungry," Jack looked down. "Guess I'll make it till tomorrow."

Crutchie pulled himself to his feet. "Here, take some a mine."

"Ah, no way. I couldn't do that."

"C'mon, Jack. No big deal. A guy's gotta eat," Crutchie offered his handful of coins with a smile.

"Here... Why don't we put yours an' mine together and share somethin'. Feels like I'm robbin' you," Jack offered.

Crutchie was visibly relieved. "Yeah, sure! I got an appetite too anyways."

Jack took the coins from Crutchie's hands and counted up their total. He started for the ladder and climbed down the first few feet. Crutchie scooted back towards the edge, crutch in hand. He lowered it to Jack, who took it and lowered it as far as he could before letting it fall. He then turned back to Crutchie. Crutchie pushed himself to the edge of the ladder and began climbing down backwards. Jack stayed a few steps below him, spotting him the whole time. Once they reached the bottom, Jack kicked his crutch over to him.

The two boys made their way down the street in search of some place to get something to eat. They talked and laughed loudly all the way, recounting the day's events and complaining about their hardships. Most all of the guys had good, strong bonds, like a group of misfit brothers, but these two had quickly become a unit. Something had just clicked. Jack was proud to claim Crutchie as his best friend, but he tried not to take any compliment from it. It was probably only because Jack was the first he'd talked to. Sooner or later, Crutchie would go on to stay with someone else. It happened all the time with every new guy Jack dragged in. But that was alright. Jack saw himself as a recruiter. His job was to get kids off the streets. He was lucky enough to have gotten out of that situation, so he wanted to help other guys out of it. Work was tough, but it was work. He looked at Crutchie as he recounted a story about a crazy old man who stopped him to talk for an hour. Everyone deserved some kind of chance, some kind of way to make his own life, bum leg or not.

"..I'm just tryin' ta get on with my day here! This guy didn't seem ta have nowhere ta be!" Crutchie ranted, gesturing in the air with his free hand as he spoke.

Yeah. It happened with every new guy Jack dragged in. They all clung to Jack for a while until they got a feel of it. Then they made friends and started staying inside the lodge and left Jack up in his little penthouse alone. He'd never minded. But then again, he'd never seemed to connect so well with someone like he had with Crutchie.

"...Anways. Just think I coulda sold more had I not gotten so caught up. Sorry 'bout that," Crutchie's rambling came to an end.

"Whatcha sorry ta me for? It don't affect me none."

Crutchie rolled his eyes. "You was too busy daydreamin' again, huh? Guess ya didn't hear me."

Jack grinned. "Hey if some place I ain't ever seen keeps me more interested than the guy talkin' next ta me all I'm sayin' is maybe I ain't the problem."

Crutchie bumped him. "Aw, damn you. But what I said was I oughta be payin' ya back for all ya done for me so I gotta work harder so that when ya need things like this I gotta a little more to contribute."

"Crutchie, Crutchie, Crutchie. How many times do I gotta tell ya you don't owe me nothin'. I woulda helped just any old guy. It's nothin' to me. Just kinda what I do," Jack assured him. "Don'tcha worry 'bout it."

No reply came. The two boys walked a bit more in silence. It was a bit of a sudden change. Just a second ago Crutchie had been full volume and now he was real concentrated on the ground. Jack looked away from him and shrugged to himself. That leg was probably hurting him again. He wasn't much for conversation when it started making itself known.

-

A painfully long and quiet evening passed.

Jack had made a good number of attempts for conversation, but to no avail. Crutchie just didn't seem much for talking. An energy buzzed in Jack as he craved the interaction, but he tried being considerate. Once they got close to home, he broke the silence.

"Hey. Ya alright?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, 'M just fine," Crutchie replied.

"For sure? Ya went awfully quiet on me today. Pain botherin' ya?" Jack pressed.

Crutchie hesitated. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, just a flare-up."

Jack was suddenly unconvinced of his own previous assumption. Still, he let it go. Instead, he approached the ladder and started climbing up. He turned around once he'd reached the top. Crutchie tossed up his crutch and dragged himself up a few rungs. He stopped in the middle though, breathing heavy. Jack held his own breath, willing Crutchie with his mind. They made eye contact and Jack gave and encouraging smile. Crutchie smiled back through his wince and maintained the eye contact the rest of the way up. Once he was within arm's reach, Jack reached out both hands and practically dragged him up the rest of the way.

Crutchie was still smiling genuinely. "Hey, thanks, Jackie," he paused and blinked, and a blank expression fell over his face. "Guess I got no business thankin' you."

Jack's brow knitted. "Eh?"

Crutchie dragged his crutch over and scooted to his normal resting spot. "Ya know. It's just ya thing. It don't matter at all or nothing."

Jack was entirely confused. "'Course it matters. What are ya talkin' about?"

Crutchie laid with his back to Jack. "Awh, no it don't. Ya said so earlier."

Knowing he was prone to saying stupid things, Jack thought back over the day. "Ya mean when I was tellin' ya- the money thing? Oh, c'mon. Ya gotta be kiddin'."

No response.

"That ain't what I meant."

More silence.

Jack scoffed. "Right, well. Good night, Crutchie." He made his way to his own corner, trying to stay annoyed and not acknowledge that he cared too much about what Crutchie thought.

Just as Jack was almost asleep, an almost inaudible reply came, "Good night, Jack."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm flattered by all the nice comments I got! Thanks everyone. ^_^ This'll probably be about 20-ish parts. I have the majority of it written; I'll be cleaning them to release here over the course of the next few weeks, so stay tuned!!

Just like Jack had predicted, he ended up alone again. He didn't pay it too much mind. After all, if every kid he brought in got a taste of the breeze and the view yet still for some reason wanted to stay confined indoors, that was their problem. More freedom for him, and he could never have enough space.

Still, it was irritating. He didn't normally find himself getting close to his peers, so he didn't know what to think of this newfound loneliness. He made up for it by spending more time in the theater with Medda. The painting was his outlet. It could be anything. Fear or worry, restlessness or frustration, anger, those moods on the down in the dumps days. They all made great paintings. Medda sometimes teased that she ought to sabotage Jack's life because the more dramatic backdrops made more beautiful shows.

"You're awful moody, dear," Medda said, breaking Jack's concentration.

Jack looked over his shoulder at her. "Anything else outta the ordinary?"

She swatted him on the head. "Don't play dumb with me, boy."

He shrugged and turned back to his work. "Just dreamin' and wantin' as usual. For all the stuff I can't get here," It wasn't the complete truth or the primary reason, but it was explanation enough.

"All that fantasy is gonna get to you. I'm not discouraging none of your dreams, but there are things you do have that you got to appreciate while you're here," She replied.

Jack grinned up at her and batted his eyelashes. "Like you, Miss Medda?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "You and your flattery. What are you trying to get?"

"Oh, nothin' at all, no! Not from you, Miss Medda! I could never!" Jack feigned shock and innocence. "Only your lovely company and a few more hours before ya kick me out."

Medda place a hand on her hip and fixed him with a look. "Hours? You need to sleep, Jack."

Jack scoffed. "Oh yeah I'm gonna get a whole lotta refreshin' peaceful rest when I'm worked up. If anything ya makin' it worse if ya make me leave now," he stuck his lip out and looked up at her. "You just gonna send me on my way, all restless?"

"Alright, you win. Lock up. And clean up after yourself when you're done," she wagged a finger at him.

Jack clutched his chest and gasped. "Are you implyin' that I have ever left a mess?"

"That sass of yours is gonna get those hours taken right back," Medda warned as she left.

"Love ya!" Jack called after her.

"I love you, too, dear," She called back.

Jack bent back over his painting, squinting for a moment. He twirled the brush in his hand pensively, only succeeding in slinging a drop of paint in a spot is shouldn't be in. He swore and quickly dunked the brush into his paint water, retrieving a different brush to try and cover the mistake. That one spot now seemed a little smeared, so he picked up from there and worked around it. Now that he'd focused so intently on the smudge, he'd begun noticing detail after detail that needed to be added or fixed. It went for a while, all of Jack's focus honed in. The silent isolation kept him going with no interruptions. Time passed without Jack's noticing. That is, until his hand had begun to ache. He stopped and set the brush in the water, clenching and unclenching his fist and rubbing his wrist. Another discomfort came to his attention, so he stretched his back. It made an awful, loud cracking noise.

"Wow," Jack muttered to himself, twisting side to side and getting a few more pops out of it. Just how long had he been sitting there unmoving?

As much as he didn't want to, the aches were probably a sign it was time to go. He stood to his feet and immeadiately stumbled as dizziness came over him. He could feel the blood rushing to his legs. Once he'd steadied himself, he began cleaning up the brushes and paints he'd been using. Joking aside, he really did have a tendency to walk off without a second thought to storing his supplies. Usually it was due to him working for so long that he could hardly muster up the energy to even stand let alone clean up. But he pushed through the exhaustion this time. He owed Medda this much.

Once Jack finished putting everything in its place and cleaning the brushes, he trudged to the lodge. As he neared it, something caught his eye that woke him right up and sent him into a full sprint.

"What the hell do ya think you're doin'?!" Jack shouted up at Crutchie, hovering below him like a mother chasing her child. The stupid kid was dangling from the ladder, trying to gain purchase on a rung with his good leg. "I oughta haul ya down here!"

"I don't need-- I can--," Crutchie tried arguing, but he was clearly out of breath. Jack's chest clenched. Just how long had Crutchie been hanging there?

"Crutchie, c'mon," Jack softened his tone. "Just come on back down here and I'll help ya get there the old normal way."

"Jackie, I think I'm stuck," Crutchie's voice cracked on the last word, making Jack's chest clench again.

Jack picked the crutch up off the ground and worked it through one of his belt loops. He climbed up the ladder until he was below Crutchie.

"Alright, I'm gonna try somethin'. Ya gotta rely on those arms a yours, Crutchie. I'm bettin' on 'em here," Jack told him. "Ya gotta show me you's as strong as I know ya are. Can ya do that for ya old pal Jack?"

Crutchie gulped audibly. "Yeah."

Jack pressed as close to the ladder as he possibly could and wiggled his way between Crutchie's legs one arm at a time till his head was level with Crutchie's chest.

"Alright. I'm gonna walk ya through my idea step by step. Ya gotta do just what I say," Jack said.

"Okay," Crutchie agreed with a shaking voice.

"Ya gotta climb down just one step," Jack told him. "Take ya time."

Crutchie bent at the knee and scooted his hands down until he was close to the rung below where his foot currently rested. He quickly shifted his weight down.

"See? It's gonna be alright. Ya doin' great," Jack reassured him. "Now, this is gonna be tricky. But take ya time. I got all night. No rush at all."

"Okay."

"I need ya ta getcha good knee bent up so I can get it hangin' onto my waist."

Crutchie's shoulders and arms tensed as he grabbed onto the ladder tighter. With a few heart-stopping, near-miss attempts, he managed to get his leg around Jack. Jack shifted his weight to one hand and used the other to hang onto Crutchie's leg. His arm was screaming, sore from use already.

"That's good, Crutchie. That's great," Jack told him. "Now here's where those arms is gonna come in. I need ya to wrap 'em around me. Ya gotta do it quick so ya don't lose our balance. Just hang right onto my neck. Don't worry 'bout chokin' me or nothin'. I'll be gettin' ya offa me soon so it won't hurt me too bad."

They stayed still for a moment. Mostly still that was, excluding Jack's straining arm. Finally, Crutchie gathered his strength and courage. In one quick motion he'd latched onto Jack's neck like a vice. Jack would have praised him again, but the pressure on his throat was too great. He settled instead for letting go of Crutchie's leg and finishing the climb. He kept his movements as steady as he could while he rushed up the ladder. A few painful seconds later, he was crawling on his belly on the platform and clawing at Crutchie's arms. Jack gasped for breath and coughed once Crutchie finally let him go. They both lay there on their backs for a moment. Jack wiggled the crutch free from his belt loop and shoved it aside.

"What were you thinkin'?" Jack wheezed.

"I don't like it inside," Crutchie said as if it was obvious.

Jack covered his face with his arm and chuckled. "Ya don't like it so ya figured you'd just go out and kill yaself."

"I woulda made it," Crutchie paused. "Eventually."

Jack shook his head. This kid was insane. He took a minute or two to recover before he slowly sat up, massaging his throat. He grinned and turned to Crutchie.

"It's awful in there isn't it?" Jack asked.

Crutchie groaned. "Ya can't breathe. Ya can't move," he looked up at Jack. "It's just more nicer up here."

"Sure ya didn't just miss me?" Jack teased.

"Oh, a'course," Crutchie joked back. "Could hardly sleep at night withoutcha snorin'."

"I do not snore," Jack kicked him lightly.

Crutchie laughed and sat up. "Nah, not too much. But ya don't stay still. Surprised ya ain't ever fallen off."

"Yeah, that's the other reason I don't much care for sleepin' 'round too many other kids. I'm all restless just on my own. Makes it worse when I'm breathin' everyone's breath," Jack pulled his knees in and leaned into them.

"Oh," Crutchie said quietly. "Well, I ain't tryin' ta be a bother. Er, anymore than I already been I s'pose, heh heh. I can letcha alone."

Jack looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, this ain't my property. No law sayin' ya gotta go."

'Yeah. And what are you gonna do about it anyways?"

Jack held up his hands."I ain't tryin' to cross no tough guys. Ya go right ahead and do whatever ya please, sir."

"I think I will. Guess ya stuck with me then," Crutchie said.

"Are ya alright though?" Jack asked.

Crutchie shrugged. "I think so. Just got a little worried is all. But I coulda made it."

Jack smiled a sleepy smile, eyes slipping shut. "I know ya could."

"But uh... I really just needed a breather. I'll go back to my bunk tomorrow night," Crutchie said.

"Mm, nooo," Jack protested softly. "Why you gotta keep twistin' my words all around like that?"

"I just don't want you thinkin' you gotta go around doin' everything for me or make a nuisance outta mys--"

"Crutchie ya bein' a nuisance right now! Just hush and go on to sleep. Just 'cause I don't want the whole damn neighborhood sleepin' in a room with me don't mean I wanna be all alone neither," Jack cracked his eyes and turned to Crutchie again. "And just 'cause I like helpin' people out don't mean you don't matter. Now shaddup would ya?"

"So ya do care?" Crutchie grinned.

Jack groaned. "Look, I been paintin' for God knows how long and draggin' morons up ladders. Please let me sleep."

Crutchie lay down, still smiling. Jack gave him a pat on the shoulder before standing to drag himself over to his usual spot. Gratefully he plopped down and spread all his limbs out, revelling in the feeling of his body relaxing. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Crutchie was laughing so hard he had to stop walking. Jack couldn't help but grin, but he manged to keep from laughing at his own joke.

"Where do ya get this stuff from?" Crutchie leaned forward and held his side. "I can't breathe."

"C'mon, Crutch, in and out," Jack jostled him playfully, accidentally almost toppling him over.

Crutchie scrambled for Jack's arm to hold himself up. In the same moment Jack reached out to hang onto him. They only succeeding in tangling limbs and knocking the crutch to the ground. Both boys laughed harder, and Jack bent down to pick it up as Crutchie used his back as a stabilizer.

"Why are ya always tryin' ta bust me up, Jack?" Crutchie said, starting to walk again.

"For the same reason you's always in my way, that's why," Jack teased back.

"Maybe 'cause ya always follow me around. I'm bound to end up in front of ya a time or two."

At that, Jack turned and headed in the opposite direction. "I ain't followin' nobody."

Jack walked a few feet before Crutchie let out a "woah!" behind him. Jack whipped around quickly, expecting to see Crutchie fallen. Instead he was met with a devious smile and a perfectly upright Crutchie.

"Aw, Jack, you's gonna make a great mother," Crutchie teased. "All it takes is a little cryin' and ya come runnin'."

Jack scrambled for a careless remark to mask his genuine embarrassment. "Yeah, well ya oughta watch it with all that, 'cause one of these days I'll get fed up and think you's jokin' and not respond when ya actually need me."

"Oh, yeah, and that's gonna be on the same day that Hell below gets cold," Crutchie rolled his eyes.

"Don't believe me then. Keep testin' me. You'll miss me when I'm gone," Jack said indignantly, joining Crutchie in their walk home again.

"Tsh, and where are ya goin'?" Crutchie laughed out loud before realizing what he said. "No, no, no, don't answer that. Wasn't a real question."

"Where am I goin'?"

"Jack, no-"

 _"Where_ am I _goin'?"_

"Not again."

Jack laughed. "I'll spare ya."

Crutchie sighed a dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank ya God."

"Wow, alright," Jack held up his hands. "I'm gettin' the picture. I'm a bother now."

"Not a bother," Crutchie replied. "Just a bore."

"Damn. That hurts me deep," Jack put a hand to his heart.

Crutchie chuckled, and they walked on quietly for a while. They had an easy way between them. Jack appreciated it. He of course loved taking every chance to prove himself and come out on top as much as the next guy. But this was good too, if in a different way. It was a chance to relax at the end of the day. Good and bad days were equally chaotic and full of stress. The only place Jack had ever found any real peace had been in Medda's theater by himself after hours. He didn't know it was possible to find peace in a person. He caught himself smiling as he looked at Crutchie and turned his head back to the street in front him. Jeez. When did he become so soft?

They soon arrived at Jack's penthouse and made their way up per usual. As the sun began to set and the stars came out, they sat and talked. Mostly Jack talked and Crutchie just listened, asking a few questions here and there.

"Hey, Jack, how come I never seen none of those paintin's thatcha make?" Crutchie asked during one quiet moment.

Jack just shrugged. "No one's stoppin' ya. They ain't very excitin' though. That's why I don't mention 'em much."

"I wanna see 'em anyways. Ya should take me and show me some time," Crutchie said. He sounded like he was actually interested.

"Whattaya care so much for?"

"I dunno, I just think if somethin' came out of your mind it's probably worth takin' a peek at," Crutchie tapped his foot to Jack's. "Cleverest guy in all'a New York, remember?"

Jack suddenly felt warm all over. He most certainly did remember that little sentiment from all those weeks ago. "Tsh. You's still on about that, huh?"

"It's true," Crutchie shrugged. "Cleverest guy I ever met at least."

Jack just couldn't take the compliment. "To be fair ya haven't met many guys to compare me to."

Crutchie had run out of responses. He looked a little disappointed. The warm feeling left Jack, and he felt a little disappointed, too.

For a minute he choked on it, but Jack managed to get out, "But uh. Th... thanks. Thank ya, Crutchie."

Crutchie didn't answer verbally, only smiled a dazzling smile. The warmth came back over Jack. If every second of every day was this good and warm and comfortable, he could see himself staying put in New York. Crutchie looked up at the stars, and Jack realized they'd just been sitting there looking at each other for a good minute or so. The warmth turned into an almost uncomfortable heat. That was pretty strange. He jumped a bit when he realized he was still looking. Crutchie's face was turned up to the sky and lit with fascination. Starlight reflected and twinkled in his eyes, adding to the childlike wonder he was radiating. Jack shook his head and turned his face over his other shoulder. 

"I love when it's all clear like this," Crutchie breathed.

Jack looked back over at him."I can tell. You's lookin' at the sky like you's in love with it."

"Maybe I am," Crutchie replied. "If that makes any sense."

Jack smiled softly and looked up, trying to see what Crutchie saw. The black-blue expanse was completely unobstructed by any clouds. The moon was all dark, making the night a little more dim and the stars a little more visible.

"Yeah," He said after a moment. "It makes perfect sense."

Jack's mind began to wander, staring up at the prominent stars. He imagined life in a place with nights like this every night, where the air was as clear as the sky. Years of feeling trapped in this life had him fed up. He broke his fixation on the sky to look down at the streets below. The dirty, cramped, miserable streets.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Crutchie asked.

Jack looked up. "Whattaya think? I already said I'd spare ya for the night."

"Aw, that was a joke. I love when ya go off. No one else around cares about nothin' as much as you care about that future of yours," Crutchie smiled, genuinely. "The cleverest and the most interesting."

Maybe it was the beautiful sky or all the compliments getting to him or that weird heat in him that felt like he was tipsy, but Jack was feeling sentimental. "Ya know somethin'?"

"What?"

"I gotta a lotta friends down there," Jack nodded to the lodge. "Brothers, even. Work and sweat and starve and fight right beside 'em. But I ain't ever had a best friend. Someone I don't get sick of after a while. Till ya showed up."

"I ain't really the one who did the showin' up," Crutchie said.

"Guess ya right. But any old way. I never wanna be apart, ya know? We's partners."

"Sellin' partners?"

Jack grew frustrated, mostly with himself for going off like this but a little with Crutchie for not keeping up. "Well yeah, but not just that. Everything partners. Life partners."

"What all's everything?" Crutchie tilted his head.

"Everything is everything! What-- Eh. Forget it. I dunno what I'm talkin' about," Jack shrugged and looked back down at the street.

"No," Crutchie said, thinking. "No, I think I know whatcha mean."

"Ya do?"

"Yeah. Like when ya like a bunch of flavors and all but there's one ya always pick. But with a person."

Jack couldn't help but laugh at the strange comparison. "Yeah, somethin' like that. Just don't start lickin' me in ya sleep."

Crutchie flashed a dark grin and stuck his tongue out. Jack laughed again and bumped Crutchie with his shoulder.

"I could do this forever," Crutchie said.

Jack stilled. "Do what?"

"I dunno. Sit here. Talk to ya, laugh with ya. Or atcha, heheh." and nudged Jack again. "Be life partners."

Jack turned away to hide his grin. "Uh, yeah, Crutchie. Life partners would mean for life."

"Well then 'till death do us part," Crutchie joked.

But serious or not, that statement made Jack a little too happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently writing the very last chapter of this. There turned out to be 13 total. I'll post chapters twice a week until it's all up! Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr, @hopeful-broadwaybaby! Come say hello, talk to me! I love people!!!
> 
> And don't forget to leave a comment, too! Even if it's just a keyboard smash or a couple of words, it will mean the world to me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, meet fan :')

"I got it, I got it," Jack grumbled with irritation. He shoved Crutchie aside a bit too roughly, ignoring the pang of guilt when he almost fell.

Truth was he didn't have it, not at all, but like hell he was going to admit it. His pride hurt more this his ribs as he struggled to stand up once he'd retrieved his dropped bag. Normally he could take any beating and brush off every injury, but he supposed this one was a little worse than most. Some angry, possibly drunk shop owner had noticed him cutting through an alley behind his store and decided that was a justifiable reason to run him down and strike him hard in the ribs with some stick. Jack had felt it in his bones. His head had hit the wall hard enough for him to see stars. Sure it was a hard hit, and sure he'd been too dizzy to even understand the words the man was yelling at him, and sure he'd jabbed Jack again in the bruise for good measure, but it had been _one_ hit. Jack could not believe he was on the verge of being out of service over one hit. He could feel Crutchie's sympathetic stare on the back of his head, and he did his best to ignore it. The shame of the pain throbbing in his skull was enough on it's own. He didn't need some dumb crippled kid treating him like--

"Do ya think they's broken?" Crutchie interrupted Jack's thoughts, appearing beside him.

Jack quickened his pace, forcing Crutchie to either fall back or struggle to keep up. "No way. One hit ain't gonna break my bones."

But even as he said it, Jack wasn't sure if he believed himself. He'd felt the pain of many broken bones in his lifetime, and this was definitely around that level. But he just couldn't accept that. No way one, stupid, thoughtless hit somehow managed to land perfectly enough with the right amount of pressure. That couldn't happen. Not to him. His head throbbed so hard that he slowed down a moment, a hand going to the ugly bump that had formed where his temple had collided with the wall. The pain pulsed again when he tried to force himself to starting walking fast immeadiately.

"What if ya hurtcha brain or somethin'?" Crutchie put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Maybe you should rest. I'll bring ya back somethin' to eat. Take a day. It'll help--"

Jack shoved Crutchie's hand away, turning to face him. He opened his mouth to say something, but it never came out. As soon as the bright sun shone in his eyes, a wave a pain flashed through Jack's head so hard that he doubled over and vomited on the ground. He stayed bent over a moment with his hands on his knees, his whole body shaking. Crutchie stepped around the mess and gently took Jack's bag off of his shoulder.

Once Jack had seemed to catch his breath, Crutchie spoke. "Sick, too?"

Jack shook his head, making himself wince. "No. Just... hurts that bad," he admitted quietly. He felt so damn defeated.

"That's no good. Could mean some serious stuff," Crutchie spoke softly, too softly. He spoke to Jack like he was fragile and breakable.

As the pain subsided and the embarrassment came back, Jack's angry defenses rose back up. He grunted as he stood up straight again, swiping his bag back from Crutchie's hands.

"Gimme that," he snapped.

"Are ya goin' back t'get some rest?" Crutchie called after him as Jack walked back the way they'd come from.

"No! I'm gonna sell somewhere else," Jack shot back.

"Alright," Crutchie said- no, _laughed._

"Ya better drop that smug voice 'fore I come back there and knock it outta ya mouth," Jack shouted.

Crutchie said something else, but the distance and grown too much for Jack to hear him anymore. He didn't care. He wasn't in the mood for conversation. The selling somewhere else had definitely been a lie; the sound of Jack's footsteps alone was enough to make him feel like he was going to be sick again. But there was also no way he was going back to the lodge. There was one place he could go, but he risked being coddled there, too. Though maybe, deep down, he wouldn't mind a little coddling. At least, not if it was from the right person.

"Jack!" Medda started once she'd noticed he'd let himself in.

"I was just sick in the street," he blurted out. Best to get it out of the way. "I can't..." He trailed off, holding up his full bag of unsold papers to hopefully let it speak for him. "Not today. I'm just... I..."

Medda walked over to him and gently held his face. "You don't feel warm, dear..." Jack almost spoke up to explain, but her searching eyes found the reason. "Oh, Jack! What happened?"

"I was just walkin', Miss Medda, I swear I was," he closed his eyes and let himself sink into the comforting touch of her hands on his face. "Just walkin' behind this shop and I got striked and knocked right into the wall. Ain't been able to see since. Hurts so bad I was sick."

"You ought to be in bed!" She scolded, pulling him in for a hug.

He let her hold him and buried his face. "Can't let the fellas see."

"You and that pride," She sighed.

Medda gently stroked Jack's hair. It relaxed him and relieved some tension, making the pain a little more bearable. Once he'd calmed down considerably, she pulled back.

"Go and put your things down and sit somewhere. I don't want to see you walkin' around or hear one word out of you. I'll bring you some water, then I want you asleep," She gave him a gentle squeeze and walked off.

Jack didn't need to be told twice. He trudged over to a costume closet, dropping his bag and plopping down on the floor. He tugged a costume coat down from its hanger and drapped it over his shoulders. The costume piece was clearly designed more for fashion than function, but it was still comforting. He clutched it to himself and curled into the wall.

He was vaguely aware of someone coming and trying to talk to him about a drink of something, but that was the last thing he could remember before he woke again in the evening.

When Jack slowly blinked into consciousness, his first thoughts were clouded with panic. He bolted to his feet and immeadiately crashed back down with his hands on his head. The pain was the only thing he could process. A big pair of soft hands came to rest over his own, and after a moment he was able to notice someone was speaking to him. He realized he'd been screaming.

"Hush, hush. Breathe, Jack. It's okay. You're gonna make it worse if you keep this up, now. Hush."

"Miss Medda?" Jack croaked.

"Yes, dear, I'm right here," She assured him.

"Sorry, didn't mean--"

"Don't you worry about it. You just scared me, that's all. What happened?" Medda's hands went back to stroking the back of Jack's head gently. He was convinced it was the best feeling in the world.

"Woke up too quick. Didn't know where I was so I tried runnin' off real fast and it made me blind from the pain again. Fell. Guess I was hollerin'."

She laughed. "I heard you across the building. Thought you'd gone and knocked your head on something again."

"Feels like it," Jack grumbled. "...Miss Medda, I'm... I'm hurt bad, ain't I."

"Yes, Jack. You are," Medda answered sympathetically.

He jerked away from her and slowly dragged himself to his feet, eyes screwed shut tight. "I can't be. Can't afford it. I gotta... Gotta..."

"It isn't as though you got no one to help you," She stood with him, hovering like she was ready to catch him.

With much effort, Jack steadied himself. He shrugged out of the costume piece and searched for his bag. "I don't need no help."

Medda crossed her arms. "You don't, do ya? Well then you go right on ahead and get your stuff and get outta here unless you're workin'."

"Alright, alright, ya coulda just said so if ya didn't wanna..." Jack trailed off as he realized what she was getting at.

"Didn't wanna what, help? Why I thought you weren't here for that," Medda said smugly.

Jack leaned against the wall and avoided eye contact with her. "All right. I get it. I'm a weak little poor boy who can't do nothin' on his own. Don't gotta rub it in." He wished he could have shouted it, but the migraine prevented him.

"You stop with that right now, Jack Kelly. Ain't no one saying that but you," She scolded him. "You come in here wanting a place to rest then punish me for caring. Tell me how that's fair?"

Jack didn't answer.

"Tell me how. How is it fair? I'm askin' you a question. Least you can do for me is answer," She persisted.

"Guess it ain't," Jack finally complied.

"No. It ain't. Now face me and get yourself over here so I can look at you proper, you proud thing," Medda said, reaching for him.

Jack stepped forward and let her turn his head this way and that way. She tilted his chin up so that he faced the light and he cringed. She clicked her tongue. His stomach turned again.

"Did you know you can get bruises on your brain?" Medda finally spoke. She started gently stroking Jack's head again, seeming to be done with her inspection.

"Think I heard that somewhere," Jack mumbled.

"They make you sick and dizzy. And they also make you confused. A newsie has to be able to think and talk clearly. You won't be getting much done even if you force yourself outside."

Jack's ego always burned on its way down his throat. "Can... ya... help me? C-can I stay?"

"I think you ought to stay down and sleep more," Medda suggested.

"I can't go back out there. Bad enough bein' babied in here. Don't need that crip out there dottin' on me," Jack agreed.

Medda remained silent, but Jack recognized the look on her face. He rolled his eyes at her.

"Oh, what? Not that again! I'm just callin' him like he is. They's just words," Jack defended.

Medda held up her hands. "Call folks whatever you will. I can't control your mouth. This ain't about that."

"Then what?"

"You're using him," Medda said matter-of-factly.

Jack was stunned a moment. "What?! How?!"

"You go out there with him every day. Protect him like he's your kin. Feed him and work with him. Act your real self with him. I see it. You act with him like you act with me, the way that's different than you act around all the boys," she began to explain.

Jack cut in. "He's my best friend. I trust 'em. How's any of that mean I'm usin' him?"

"Looks an awful lot like you only pick him to trust because he's weak."

"He ain't weak! How could ya think I think that?!"

"Because," Medda continued. "You keep him at your side and try takin' care of him. But he's not allowed to care back when you need it. Why is that?"

Jack didn't have an answer.

"You think you're better than him?"

"No way!"

Medda raised her brows. "It sure looks that way."

Jack was growing angrier by the second. "How?! He ain't any less than the rest of us! I never treat 'im like it!"

"But you are. Right now. He's no less than the rest of you until it's inconvenient for him to be your equal. He's right by your side all the time. You're even gracious enough to care for him. Jack Kelly, the tough yet kind leader. Respectable young man," Medda paused like she was expecting him to catch on.

Though he could sense the sarcasm, Jack took the praise. "Well.. well, yeah. I am. What about it?"

"Too tough for 'that crip' to take care of him, though. Because as soon as Jack looks like the weak one, Crutchie goes back to being 'that crip.' He's not allowed to be the strong boy you built him up as anymore. He's only strong because Jack says so, when Jack says so. And Jack only says so when Crutchie's strength doesn't best Jack's."

"That's a lie," Jack mumbled. "I didn't build him up as nothin'. He's strong all on his own."

"If you know it, then show it," Medda stated.

"How?" Jack couldn't deny it anymore. He wanted to, but he didn't know how to explain himself. Maybe there really wasn't anything to explain.

"Let him care. You can't be the stronger one and be equals at the same time. You have to decide. Your image, or your relationship."

Jack hated that he had to hesitate on that choice. It was more than an image, though. It was his first line of defense. His head throbbed, causing him to drift off for a moment. Medda brought him back.

"He ain't your property, Jack. He's a person, crippled or not," She said.

"I know that," Jack replied, trying to focus on her face.

"Why do you care about him?"

"He's my friend," Jack slurred out. Stars clouded his vision.

"That's a two-way street. All he wants is to see you healthy," Medda's voice started sounding far away.

Jack managed to get out a, "Yeah."

"Not everyone thinks like Jack. It isn't all competition. He trusts that you care about him just because. He doesn't need to assert himself more because of his leg like you would."

Too much information at once, but one thing stuck out to Jack. That guilt stabbed in his chest again. "Trusts me?"

"He doesn't see through you like I can. You ain't given him a reason not to. Don't you ruin that, Jack. You've got a good thing."

"Okay," Jack said so softly he wasn't sure he said it at all.

He fell forward slowly and heard Medda shout his name before there was nothing but blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to come tell me hello over on tumblr @hopeful-broadwaybaby !!  
>  Comments are ALWAYS appreciated, no matter how short and/or silly ^^


	6. Chapter 6

Jack didn't leave the theater after that. It only took Crutchie a day to figure out where he was, though. He'd been waiting there for Jack to wake up one day, and as soon as he did, Crutchie launched into an excited babble about how he'd finally seen Jack's paintings and how great they were. He came every evening after he'd sold all his papers to tell Jack what he'd missed that day and which boys had told him to say hello for them.

Jack didn't talk back much, just grunted and hummed acknowledgements here and there. He'd spent most of his resting time trying to recall all the things Medda had said to him before he'd passed out. He'd been foggy at the time, but by the end of the week he was sure he'd finally pieced it together. When Crutchie came to see him that evening, Jack had made his decision.

"Hiya, Jack!" Crutchie greeted enthusiastically. "Get some sleep today?"

"Yeah, I slept fine," Jack replied, not rolling over to face him.

"Feelin' any better?"

"Feel fine," Jack still didn't turn over.

Crutchie plopped down on the floor beside the pallet of bedding Jack had been nesting on. He went straight into his daily spiel of stories and personalized well-wishes from their peers. Jack cut him off.

"Couldja just go away?"

Crutchie paused. "Huh?"

"Go away. Leave. Scram," Jack waved him off without looking at him.

"Why? Head botherin' ya?" Crutchie asked, sounding more concerned than offended.

"You're botherin' me," Jack corrected, already exhausted. The kid's optimism and naivety wasn't making him feel like any less of an ass.

"Oh..." Crutchie still seemed confused. "I'll letcha rest then. Guess ya need some alone time?"

"Not a matter of needin' to be alone. Go drag ya leg somewhere else," Jack finally spared him a glance. He needed to see his face the moment he understood.

Crutchie stared blankly for a moment, but his face eventually hardened into cold stone. He dragged himself up and began to walk out. For a moment he stopped, looking back at Jack with a hesitant, pleading look of hope. Jack just rolled back over.

"Run along. Ya got someone out there worryin' aboutcha. Don't keep 'em waitin'," Jack grumbled.

"I came here on my own!" Crutchie shouted. "Ya got fellas worryin' aboutcha too, Jack!"

"Well _I'm_ gonna get better," Jack shot back, still unable to really yell.

"I hope ya don't!" Crutchie snapped.

Every thump echoed in Jack's skull as Crutchie walked away. He covered his eyes with an arm. People were exhausting. Yet he couldn't seem to get himself back to sleep. He sighed and slowly, slowly dragged himself to his feet. He leaned against the wall to take a moment to assess how he felt. Still pretty miserable, but every move didn't drive him to blindness and vomiting like before. Slowly and carefully, he made his way to the closet where he'd stored his shirt, vest, hat, and bag. Jack gathered all of his things and put all the usual outerwear on. With a humorless laugh he realized the papers he'd bought and entirely wasted were still in the bag, over a week old now. That was just another reminder of all the work he was going to have to do when he got back.

Still moving slowly, Jack searched the building for Medda. He appeared to be alone. That made sense enough. After all, he had no idea what time or even what day it was. Jack figured Medda would be able to put two and two together to figure out he'd gone willingly. What would someone with bad intentions want with a bag of outdated papers and a tattered cap? He would stop by tomorrow evening to give her a proper thanks and hopefully jump on any projects he'd been unable to start. It wasn't like he'd have anything else to do.

On the way to the lodge, Jack debated whether to go inside or just climb up and get to sleep straight away. If he went inside, he could figure out what time and day it was and shut down any rumors before they got worse. But he would also have to deal with the migraine that would no doubt follow the shouted greetings and cheers. If he stayed outside, he'd get some real rest, but he would be lost as all get-out in the morning. Not to mention he'd be delaying proving he wasn't dead or run off or whatever guys had probably been saying. A sharp, cold wind blew suddenly, causing Jack to shiver. He hadn't even realized how cold it was. With a frustrated sigh, Jack let the weather decide for him.

"He lives!" And unidentified voice shouted the instant Jack stepped a foot inside.

Jack looked around to see who had spoken, but before he could focus everyone was standing and talking at once.

"Who lives?! Jack?!"

"Jack! We thought Snyder nabbed ya!"

"Crutchie said ya broke ya skull!"

"Toldja he didn't go to no New Mexico. Ain't saved nothin' yet."

"Ya missed a lot."

"All right, all right!" Jack shouted over the commotion. His own voice shot a wave of pain through his skull. He prayed he hadn't overestimated his stability.

"So where were ya really?" Romeo asked, pushing his way forward.

Jack's hands went to his ears as the shouting started again. Someone yelled "quiet!" over everyone else, and it worked.

"I didn't break nothin'. Got my brains knocked around is all. I just spent my time sleepin' somewhere I was gettin' fed," Jack tried to remain vague as possible, both out of embarrassment and to avoid directing any begging to Medda's doorstep.

"But who soaked ya?"

"Yeah, we'll show 'em!"

Another wave of shouted agreements sent Jack's hands back over his ears. He couldn't take it. With his eyes screwed shut, Jack pushed his way through the group. The shouts turned from cheers and "yeah's!" to concern and confusion. To Jack, though, it was all just noise amplifying his pain. He made his way to an empty bunk, a few boys following him with questions he ignored. The finally quieted after he'd settled down with his back to them, still blocking out sound.

"Come on, fellas," someone, sounded like maybe Race, said. "Let 'im sleep."

Disappointed groans and complaints faded out of the room. Jack rolled over to watch them leave. He still needed to know something.

"Higgins," Jack called, stopping Race just before the door.

Race looked back. "Yeah?"

"What's today?"

"Sunday," Race grinned. "Ya really did sleep all his time, huh?"

Jack didn't answer, only rolled back over. Counting the days of work he'd missed generated another headache all on its own.

He was never going to get out of here....


	7. Chapter 7

The headaches and sensitivity went away within a few days. Jack still experienced some irritability and confusion, but for the most part he was functional.

It wasn't enough.

Jack pushed his way past some other newsies, barging to the front before a line could form. He slammed his coin down.

"One fifty," he demanded.

Jack ignored the laughter and comments, taking his papers and leaving. He didn't have time for it this morning. Or any morning. If it weren't for the damn cold, these few minutes at the beginning of the day would be the only time the guys would see any of him. But he was forced inside at night lest he should freeze. The others had gotten the message loud and clear after a few days of Jack outright ignoring them every time they spoke.

All day, Jack kept in motion. He had to get rid of every last one of the damned things. He exhausted every corner, tracked folks down, crossed other kid's spots, used every trick from fabricated headlines to personal sob stories. Finally as the day wound down, Jack found himself with only three left.

"Dammit," he grumbled to himself. Where else could he go?

"By now ya gotta have made more than ya normally do," Crutchie said.

Jack whirled to face him. He'd been so wrapped up in his frustration and thinking he hadn't noticed the tell-tale step-thump of his friend's approach.

"I did. But if I quit now I'm wastin' more than a penny, so it don't matter," Jack replied, trying to sound as casual as he could for speaking to someone he'd been mutually ignoring for several days.

"Let me," Crutchie said. He held out his free hand. "You's already in my spot anyways."

Jack clutched his bag so tightly his knuckles hurt. "Don't see ya name no where."

"Dammit, Jack, just lemme give ya a hand for once in ya life," Crutchie stepped closer and made like he was going to take Jack's bag by force.

"You a thief now?" Jack snapped, yanking his bag to the side and stepping down. Normally he would have just threw some guy on the ground for trying, but this new aggression from Crutchie had shocked him.

Crutchie opened his mouth to speak, stopped to think, then opened it again. "Ya know what? Yeah. Yeah, I am. Gimme it."

He made another grab for Jack's bag, actually getting a hand on the strap. Jack shouted out and jerked away, taking another step back. He didn't know why he was stepping down. He was really pissing himself off.

"Just-- just leave me alone, you dumb crip!" Jack roared. He was ready to punch this kid's lights out.

"Ya don't care none about that! Ya never did! This ain't about that," Crutchie yelled back. "So tell the truth! About why you's so damn scared ta have friends!"

"I ain't scared of nothin'!" Jack punctuated the sentence with a shove to Crutchie's chest.

Crutchie stumbled backwards, hopping a few times, but managed to stay upwards. Jack felt a bit of relief at the distance between them. They'd been close enough that Crutchie had been spitting on him while yelling.

"Yeah ya are, Jack! You's terrified even. What's so scary, huh? If I'm just a dumb crip? I ain't threatenin' ya none! What have ya got ta lose?!"

Jack balled his fists up. "I got lots ta lose! I ain't scared. I just don't need no one or nothin' holdin' me back!"

"From what?! From Santa Fe? I ain't stoppin' ya! From lookin' like some group of kids' boss? I'm no competition. So what is it?!"

"Ya ruined everything!" Jack yelled at the top of his lungs, probably stopping everyone within the mile in their tracks.

"How?! What did I ever do?"

"Nothin'! Ya done nothin'! I mean in here," Jack gestured to his head wildly. "Ruinin' everything in here."

Crutchie shook his head, volume decreasing slightly. "The hell are ya talkin' about?"

I don't care about nothin', Crutchie. Nothin' and no one, 'cept for three things: Miss Medda, goin' West, and gettin' kids off the streets," Jack explained, twisting his hands in his hair. "I got no room for likin' no one in there! I get up. I work ta survive and ta save for leavin'. I go paint. I direct fellas to the lodge if I find 'em. That's it. I care about makin' it through the day. Care about payin' back Miss Medda for all she done and payin' back God or whoever for lettin' me find work. That's all. I'm givin' what I'm takin' here. No more, no less. Soon as I can, I'll be gone!" Jack pointed at Crutchie. "Get that?! Gone! I can't leave nothin' behind!"

"You's scared because...  
Ya like me?" Crutchie said, tilting his head.

Jack could have sobbed right then. "That's all ya got outta that?! Fine! Yeah, I'm scared! Scared like I never been of nothin' before. Ya asked what I've got ta lose. The answer's nothing at all. Or at least I didn't used to," Jack couldn't even look at Crutchie anymore. "But now? Now I do. 'Cause I got you."

"I didn't think it was possible," Crutchie said after a moment.

Jack's pulse was roaring in his ears. "What?"

"Somehow, Jack... you's dumber than ya look," Crutchie answered.

Cold anger solidified Jack's frenzy. "Thanks. See this is the other reason. Ya care about someone and trust 'em on accident and then ya bare ya soul and they just--"

Wood clattered against the ground as Crutchie hugged Jack with both arms. In a frantic, startled state, Jack hugged back out if instinct to hold Crutchie up. Then his brain made the connection. Alarms went off in his brain and everything told him to push Crutchie off and ask what his problem was. But he was frozen that way, just holding Crutchie stiffly. Jack wasn't even breathing.

"What kinda life is it if ya got nothin' ta lose? Ya got nothin' ta live for that way," Crutchie mumbled into Jack's shoulder.

"That's why I'm movin'. I got nothin' here," Jack spoke, not remembering deciding to do so.

"Is it so bad now thatcha do?" Crutchie asked, lifting his head a little.

Jack didn't answer at first. Since the day he ended up an orphan, he'd had a one-track mind. Survive, survive, survive. Day in and day out. Over and over. There had been many a time when he'd asked himself what for. He used to look down at the streets from every high place he could and wonder about the afterlife. Why was he even slaving away for no good reason when there was a chance he could be reunited with his parents? But that was when he was younger and stupid. He knew better now. He'd learned that the world was a lot bigger than New York. He'd learned that if he was focused enough, he might get a taste of it. He knew there was payoff somewhere out there. But with Crutchie still clinging to him, Jack thought maybe his purpose wasn't so black and white, maybe there were little tastes of that silver lining closer to him than he'd thought.

Decision made, Jack's tense muscles relaxed, and he really pulled Crutchie to him.

"No," Jack answered. "I s'pose it ain't."


	8. Chapter 8

Happier. It was as simple as that. Jack was significantly happier.

Speaking for someone who was such a general grouch, however, "significantly" didn't mean he was suddenly an overwhelming optimist who skipped about and smiled at strangers and whistled while he worked.

But his laughter came easier. His jokes were lighter and kinder and more frequent. His paintings were brighter. Somehow he felt a little less tense and sore at the end of the day.

But in spite of it all, he didn't trust it. He just couldn't trust it. Something bad was going to happen. Kids like him, they didn't get to be happy for long. The world was cruel and unforgiving and no amount of suffering would ever leave it satisfied. There was always more pain to generate, more loss to be created. A smart kid would know this; he would have a thick skin; he would be ready. And Jack did like to consider himself a smart kid.

So, he kept Crutchie at more of a distance than his stupid side wanted him to. They still did, well, everything together, but Jack didn't let anymore little moments of softness last. No more stars, no more future talk, and no hugs. Jack made sure to give Crutchie such a public hard time about that particular moment that he'd gone a bit misty eyed and red from the embarrassment. The guys kept at him for it for a couple days. It made Jack want to punch himself, but he had to play it safe. And it had worked. Crutchie had stopped touching him all together for it. That was a bit more extreme than Jack had hoped, but he figured it was better safe than sorry.

But one exception couldn't hurt. After all, Jack definitely had all the self control in the world. This just couldn't be an every day thing was all. It would be okay. Just one night of being a sentimental softie wouldn't ruin all his progress.

"Hey, Crutch," Jack said as he caught up to him. He reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

Crutchie pulled back an inch. Jack would get used to that. Eventually. He hoped. "Oh, hey, Jack. What brings ya over here?"

"I wanna show ya somethin'," Jack tried not to sound as excited as he was.

Crutchie picked up on Jack's merriment. "What are you doin' that you gotta hide a smile for?"

"Well I gotta show ya," Jack reiterated. He tried to resist the urge to tug Crutchie along. "How's ya leg? Think ya can swing a long walk?"

"Mmm... How long is 'long?'" Crutchie said.

Dammit. Jack was hoping he wouldn't have to spend all of what he'd set aside.

"Never mind that," Jack said. "Here, come with me."

The two walked a little ways, making conversation about the day's work like usual. Crutchie kept looking around in confusion then back to Jack, but he never said anything. They were walking right past most places they usually stopped at. It became more and more apparent that Crutchie had no idea where they were going. That made Jack grin. He wanted it to be a surprise.

It wasn't front page news, but the paper had said there was an outage on the other side of Manhattan, where the buildings were taller. Usually, the lights and everything else ruined what would have been a better view than they usually got, but if Jack was right they'd be able to see more stars than they could count out there.

"Wh-- are we boarding a trolley?" Crutchie asked, surprised. When Jack nodded, he continued, "Where you get the m--?"

"Don't you worry about that. I always try settin' a penny here and there aside in case somethin' happens."

"What happened?" Crutchie asked.

Jack ignored him in favor of not saying, "I didn't want your leg to ruin my plans," keeping quiet instead. Crutchie huffed in frustration at the lack of response.

After their ride, during which they'd hung out of the car enjoying the wind, they walked in what seemed like an aimless manner. Jack wasn't as familiar with this area, and it showed. Crutchie piped up to complain a few times, but Jack shushed him. It was finally almost completely dark, with just a bit of sunlight left to look around with, when Jack found what he was looking for.

"This way," Jack put a hand on his shoulder and guided him towards an alley. Crutchie didn't pull away. Jack hated himself for noticing and caring.

"Are ya gonna kill me? Ya drag me off to da other side of town then wait till it's dark ta shove me inta some alley neither of us ever seen--," Crutchie whined.

"Wouldja quiet down?" Jack cut him off again. "There's a buncha rich folks sleepin' around here."

Jack helped Crutchie up the series of ladders and steps up the side of what seemed to be some kind of business headquarters. It became apparent that Jack was pushing Crutchie's limits, but he was determined to have his night go right.

"Just a little further," Jack called over his shoulder, thinking Crutchie was behind him.

"Jack, I... Can't," Came Crutchie's reply, further away than Jack had anticipated.

Jack looked back and saw a very sweaty Crutchie huffing and clutching his side and all but doubling over.

 _You're an idiot, Kelly,_ He thought to himself as he climbed back down to Crutchie's level.

"I'm sorry, kid, I just... Got excited," Jack said.

"Why?" Crutchie asked, still panting. "What's up there?"

"A better view," Jack answered.

"Of what?"

Jack didn't answer verbally; he simply pointed to the sky. Crutchie looked up. That killer grin lit his face up.

"Oh, wow!" Crutchie said.

Jack smiled, but not for the view. "Yeah, that's what the middle of nowhere looks like. Bein' able ta get up high and not havin' lights everywhere is practically the same thing."

"Can't believe you wasted your money on a ride so I could look at some stars," Crutchie joked.

"Wasted money and risked my ass," Jack said, revealing the contents of his bag. He hadn't really stolen the food, but he didn't want to admit just ho much money he'd used on this.

"Jack!" Crutchie said like he was getting ready to chew him out, but he didn't.

They rested for a bit, talking and laughing and shushing each other. It became clear to Jack as time ticked by they likely weren't going to climb up any further. He was a bit restless. If he was going to go against his instincts for some stupid late-night adventure he wanted to get every penny's worth.

"Ya ready yet?" He asked, slowly reaching to pack up his things on the hope Crutchie said yes.

Crutchie fidgeted for a moment. "I dunno, we walked an awful lot...."

Jack slumped back down, trying not to be visibly upset. He looked over to Crutchie who was blissfully unaware of his attitude, just staring up at the sky. Jack laughed internally at himself. That was the real reason he was here.

"Hey, Jack?"

"Hm?"

"How are we gettin' back home?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! Honestly, the majority of this fic was typed on my phone when I posted it on Wattpad last year. I never proofread it or intended it to get as long as it did, so I didn't think many (any) people were reading it. But of few of you kept commenting, so I don't want to leave you hanging. Here we go!! I promise I'll get the rest of this up by the end of the month.  
> Also a warning for this chapter and from this point on in the story: we'll be seeing a lot of internal homophobia as well as usage of the word "queer" in a not-so-kind context.

Jack Kelly was an idiot. If he was sure of anything in his life, it was that.

He had lied to himself. He did not have any self control, much less all of it in the world. One night of being a sentimental softie did ruin all his progress.

The worst part? Crutchie seemed so... Unaffected. It made Jack crazy. What was wrong with him that made him so exhausted and obsessive over, well, over what? He didn't even have an answer. Over the fact that his own actions had caused Crutchie to be physically appalled by him? That wasn't really it. Over wanting Crutchie to care about the time they spent together as much as Jack did? That didn't make any sense, either. Crutchie was always kind and grateful and enthusiastic. He clearly did care. So what the hell was Jack's problem?

"What the hell is my problem?" Jack grumbled, staring at his paint-covered hands.

"You're experiencing love, dear," Medda said. "It's what happens when you allow yourself to have a friend."

Jack sighed, long and heavy. "Guess so."

"Don't you love me?"

He looked up at her and smiled weakly. "With all my heart. But this is... Different?"

"Maybe because the other boys are involved? You and your pride--"

"No, it ain't like that anymore," Jack said. "I wouldn't give a second thought to none of 'em if they called me soft for it by now. I'd stand up in the penthouse an' holler it to all a New York."

Medda stared at him for a silent moment with a look he couldn't figure out. He was about to ask what she was thinking when she finally spoke, leaning in and growing quieter. "Jack... You don't think you're..."

Jack tilted his head. "Think I'm what?"

"You couldn't be... You know... Queer, could you?"

Jack spun about in a panicked circle, making sure they were alone. "Are ya really callin' me a queer right now?! What if someone heard ya and thinks you's serious?!"

"Jack--"

"Tryin' ta land a fella in jail? I got enough goin' against me!"

"I was not tr--"

"That's _disgusting!"_

"Is it?" Medda asked. "Why?"

Jack hesitated.

"Because everyone says so?"

Jack shook his head, taking his apron off and throwing it aside. "You's a crazed radical. Gettin' mad at folks for callin' crips 'crips' and now you's tellin' me you's a queer-lover."

"I want you to leave," Medda pointed to the door.

"I was just on my way out. Like I says, I got enough goin' against me as it is. I can't let no one hear me having this conversation," Jack said as he began to walk out.

"Don't you come back with that coward. You come back when you've got _my_ Jack Kelly," Medda called after him.

Jack stomped his whole way back to the lodge. He couldn't believe he'd just been called a queer. He stood a little straighter, trying to appear more boyish. That had never happened before. Rat, scum, other such names, yes, but never queer. He didn't really take Medda for a radical, at least not in a bad way, but he was truly insulted.

"Heya, Jack!" Crutchie greeted him from a ways down the road.

Jack stopped walking. His heart began to beat so quickly he was almost faint. Crutchie frowned when he got close enough to see Jack's blank, vaguely terrified expression.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Jack shook his head. "No, actually, I ain't feelin' so good, uh..."

Crutchie stepped closer to him. "Are ya sick? Whatsa matter?"

"Uh. Ah, I..." Jack swallowed hard. "I know it's cold, but could we go up?" He gestured to the penthouse. "I wanna talk to ya."

Crutchie didn't seem to be anything but concerned. "A 'course. C'mon."

"Crutch, I need a... Second opinion on a matter," Jack began once they made it up. "Problem is I can't give ya too much details and such. So it's gonna sound odd."

"Sure, pal, go ahead. I'll try," Crutchie said.

"Alright. So... Say there's a fella who's been called all kindsa bad things. And they don't bug 'im none. But then he gets called somethin' real bad that makes him embarrassed and mad when it ain't much worse than the other stuff. What does it mean that somethin' got to 'im? Outta the blue? Is he weak now?"

Crutchie thought a moment. "Well, when folks calls me lazy or a faker or dirty or scumy, it don't bother me really. I know that stuff ain't true or that it don't matter at least. Just when they calls me a crip or somethin' alike is when I get mad, 'cause it's true, and that stings 'cause ain't nothin' I can do with the information. I's stuck this way. So if I'm hearin' ya right and it's like that, he ain't weak or nothin', it's just probably true."

Jack ran a hand through his hair. "Probably true, huh."

"Uh huh," Crutchie nodded. "An' hes down 'cause he don't wanna be stuck that way."

Jack sighed again and closed his eyes. "Stuck" felt like the right word alright.

"Is you the fella, Jack? Whatsa matter? Who's hollerin' atcha? Me and the boys'll soak 'em!"

"Yeah, well if your guess is right, you and the boys would wanna soak me," Jack mumbled, half-wanting him to not hear.

"Never," Crutchie said with a sudden intensity. "No matter whatcha did. We's together."

Jack smiled at the irony and looked over his shoulder to Crutchie. "Together, huh?"

Crutchie smiled in response. Jack's vital functions all stuttered.

"I hope you's wrong," Jack whispered. The longer he stared, though, the more he doubted it.

"I'm sure ya didn't do nothin' wrong, Jackie," Crutchie replied.

Jack groaned. Why did he have to use that right now?

"It ain't what I done, it's what I am," he said, though he knew he was probably confusing Crutchie.

Crutchie looked confused. "What you is? I don't get it. You's great."

This conversation was not helping. "Crutchie, I'm... not."

"Ya know what, Jack? I'm gonna be sentimental. And you're gonna shut up and listen ta me for a minute and I don't care if ya tell the fellas and everyone makes fun a me again," Crutchie said.

Jack cringed at himself. He wished every day he'd never done that.

"Alright," Crutchie continued. "I am sorry if your opinion happens to be to the contrary, but I don't see no bad guy up here. I sees a guy that's been workin' his whole life just ta survive. I sees that he saw some stuff and had to do some stuff that was real bad. And with what that could do to a kid's head, I think he's doin' alright. He ain't perfect. He's properly scrambled for sure, but he's strong. He keeps workin'. He keeps bein' kind. Keeps sharin' and riskin' himself for other kids who... Can't be so strong like him."

Crutchie paused in his ramble, and though Jack was looking down at the street he could feel Crutchie's gaze.

"So... I'm sorry if you don't see any a that but I just cannot see the fella who saved my life as anything but amazin'," Crutchie's voice started to shake a bit.

Jack knew if he turned around, he would see how upset Crutchie was. He knew if he saw that, he would hug him. He knew if he hugged him, he'd throw himself even further off. If he turned around, he wouldn't be able to turn back.

He tried so very hard not to turn. "Crutch... I... I'm just doin' what's right. I ain't nothin' special for that."

"You's special ta me, Jack!" Crutchie almost shouted. He over corrected his volume out of nervousness by whispering. "Can'tcha just... Let someone care. Remember that? When ya said you were gonna let me care?"

He just sounded so damned sad. Jack couldn't keep himself from turning anymore. They locked eyes for a moment before Crutchie spoke again.

"Do ya still care about me back?"

That was it. Jack hugged Crutchie so tightly he felt the air go out of himself. The relief to finally touch him again was so intense it felt like he was floating. Crutchie began breathing rapidly as he squeezed back. They were suffocating each other, but neither made any more to lighten up.

"Why didja do that?" Crutchie whispered. "Why didja tell everyone and laugh at me?"

"I'm sorry, Crutchie. I don't know why."

"I was bein' real serious."

"I know," Jack wanted to launch himself over the ledge to the street for this. He was so upset.

"I thought you were, too. Ya had me goin'," Crutchie said.

"I was serious. I was."

"Then why?"

"Still scared," Jack admitted.

"Of course ya is. Why don'tcha let someone else be there for you for once? Be scared, Jack. I ain't gonna do nothin'. We ain't gotta tell no one," Crutchie pushed back a little to breathe.

Jack slowly let go. He wanted to try it, to have a confidant and maybe, just maybe let his guard down a bit. But he didn't know how.

"I wanna.... What do I say..?" Jack whispered.

Crutchie shrugged. "Whatever ya want."

Jack nodded, but didn't reply. Crutchie just watched him, patient and concerned. Jack hung his head and closed his eyes. He was tired. Not right then, not physically, but of everything. He was exhausted. And he was scared. He was so terrified.

He reached out and hugged Crutchie again. "I'm scared."

Crutchie held on tight. "I know."

"I'm tired," Jack said.

"I know," Crutchie said again.

Jack wasn't okay. Crutchie was right, he was rightly scrambled in the head. But crazy or queer or freak or not, he did know one thing. He wasn't alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave me a comment and swing by my tumblr @hopeful-broadwaybaby to say hello and yell at me to update :')


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's continued internalized homophobia and usage of the word queer for pretty much the rest of the story. This chapter will also have minor, short violence.

If one more person asked him what was wrong, Jack was going to sock them in the nose right then and there. Anyone who knew him could tell something wasn't right. He wouldn't look anyone in the eye. The loud, confident tone was missing from his voice. In fact, he barely spoke at all. Everyone was concerned, but he didn't care. Let them worry. If they knew, they'd all hate him. No boy in his right mind would ever speak to or be seen with him again. So he avoided speaking to them all together, in case somehow they heard it in his voice or saw it in his eyes.

Many a time he had drawn a pretty girl he saw in the street and tracked her down to show her. For some reason girls seemed to love it. He would use it to flirt, telling them he only drew the most beautiful things he saw, or go with a play on words and say he was "drawn" to them. Almost every time they ate it right up. But, ever since Medda asked him _that question,_ he'd been having trouble sleeping. He stayed up and thought about all those girls, trying to convince himself of something. On one evening, after he was through selling, he went up to his penthouse to go through his drawings, laying out the ones he'd not given away. Girls he saw each day, girls he didn't really remember, girls who had called him a creep and shoved the drawing back at him. Then, for comparison, he brought out the sketches he'd done of the others.

"There's way more of boys...." Jack whispered to himself, disgusted.

But to be fair, he never gave a drawing to a girl he passed every day in case she thought him strange for it. It was the same with these. Surely the drawings had just accumulated over time, and the number of them which were of people he saw every day were equal in terms of gender. He just... saw more boys was all.

Jack nodded silently to himself, satisfied enough with that rationalization. He began shuffling through the drawings of his friends and peers. Some of them were from a good while ago. He paused on one, one of Race. He remembered drawing this, back when the two had first met. It had taken him ages. Every time he saw Race he went back to fix or complete a detail. For some reason, Jack felt compelled to get it just right. He laughed quietly to himself as the memories came back to him. He'd practically stalked the kid when he first started coming around, trying to memorize him for that drawing. Race had realized someone was following him, though he didn't appear to know who.

"Ey, why don'tcha take a picture? It lasts longer!" He'd called in the general direction of Jack's hiding place. "I can hear ya!"

Jack laughed again, remembering how he'd panicked a bit and run off. He was so sure Race knew it was him that he avoided him altogether for a while. To this day he wasn't completely sure whether or not he did, but he'd never said anything about it to Jack.

Suddenly, Jack ripped the picture right down the middle and shoved it over the side of the penthouse. He'd been staring at it fondly for too long. Was he sweet on Race, too? What was happening? He began to tear up all the drawings of the boys, trying and failing to keep quiet. His heavy breathing and rapid movements drew some attention.

Jack whipped his head around when he heard someone coming up the ladder. Frantically, he shoved all of the torn drawings into a big pile of scraps and tried to hide them before whoever it was made it up.

"Jack, is that you up there? What are ya doin'? It's cold. Come inside," Crutchie called from halfway down the ladder.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jack made his way over to the ladder and reached down, gesturing for the crutch. Crutchie paused his climbing and handed it to him gratefully. As soon as he was within arms reach, Jack hauled him up perhaps a bit too roughly and clung to him like a child.

"Oof! Woah, what'sa matter?" Crutchie said.

Jack let him go and apologized, but before he could finish, Crutchie held up the torn in half drawing of Race.

"Are you up here shreddin' up your pictures?" Crutchie asked, sounding sad. "Why?"

Jack opened his mouth, trying to find an explanation. There wasn't one that didn't sound odd. He closed it again and hung his head, hoping that Crutchie would some how understand.

After a moment of Jack's silence, Crutchie spoke softly. "Come on, Jack. Let's go inside. It's cold."

-

It hadn't even been a month since Jack's head had gotten better, and here he was getting himself crushed again.

There was no defense this time. He had thrown the first punch. But when he'd done it, Morris was alone. Jack figured he could handle just one guy, even if he was a bit bigger. He certainly had had the element of surprise on his side. Hell, he might have even won altogether had the kid's brother not come out of that shop.

Crutchie had stayed down today, leg too stiff to stay out all day due to the cold. Jack had just finished selling and was excitedly on his way back to see him. But Morris-God-Damed-Delancey just had to be out and about on Jack's path home. He just had to call after Jack. He just had to say that word that Jack had been obsessing over for days. If he had said anything else, really, Jack might have ignored him.

"Where are you runnin' to so fast, Kelly?" He'd called. Jack had almost kept going past him, but Morris had continued. "Running to your little crip? Didn't see him out and about today. Ya know, you two really look like a pair of queers."

Jack didn't even remember consciously deciding to hit him. But he'd truly surprised himself with how quickly he had him on the pavement. That was until he got peeled off of him, and well, the rest was history.

The air left him as he hit the ground. He spit out his mouth full of blood. The brothers jeered at him as they walked away. Once their footsteps faded, he pushed himself up. This was pretty tame in terms of beatings he'd received in his life, so he figured he'd be alright. Resigned and embarrassed, he trudged back to the lodge at a slower pace. What was he even so mad about? It wasn't like they were wrong. Even Medda thought so. She knew him more than anyone.

Most of the others weren't back yet, so he didn't get stopped on his way to Crutchie. When he came into line of sight of his partner, Crutchie gasped.

"What'd you do now?!" Crutchie groaned.

"Eh, I'm sure it looks worse than it is," Jack sighed and shrugged out of his bag. He tried changing the subject. "Think it'll snow?"

Crutchie snorted. "I hope not. Who did it?"

Jack gave a half hearted smile. "Ain't gonna let me drop it, huh?" Crutchie shook his head. "Delanceys."

"Ya weren't stealin' nothin' where ya? Ya can't go back ta jail," Crutchie scolded.

"Uh, no," Jack tried to keep his tone casual as he hung his bag and began to take off the outer layers of his clothes. "I... Punched Morris."

"You what?!" Crutchie hollered. "Why?! If ya tryin' ta die hurlin' yourself off the buildin' would be faster!"

"Well, first of all I almost had 'im. I thought he was alone. Second of all, he... Was sayin' some not so nice things was all."

There was a tangible pause.

"About me," Crutchie said. It wasn't a question.

Jack stood there for a moment, fiddling with his coins. He wanted to tell Crutchie, but he was weighing the potential reactions. He figured the worst would be laughter, in which case Jack could laugh along and this would start getting easier.

"He said we- you an' me dat is- look like a pair a queers," Jack said, looking up.

Crutchie looked entirely caught off guard, but not offended or disgusted. Jack's vital functions did that thing again. Crutchie opened his mouth to reply, but the door to the lodge slammed open, and Albert rushing inside laughing loudly. Race hollered obscenities as he chased him down. Jack could have set that drawing on fire and watched it burn right then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments = the reason I'm alive! Don't hesitate to interact with me on tumblr as well!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah! I lost my laptop charger, so it's been hard to write and update! Luckily, my girlfriend is being kind enough to let me borrow hers. Thanks for your patience, y'all. <3
> 
> Underage drinking in this chapter

It was a new experience being on the other end of this. Being ignored, that was. Jack didn't really know what to make of it. He decided to just be grateful that he had the space to clear his head of all this queer business. He laughed to himself every time he thought of it. To think he truly let that get to him for an entire week. He was still playing catch up from the head injury; he didn't have time to slow himself down. But just to be safe, he didn't question Crutchie's distance nor did he dare speak to Miss Medda.

Unfortunately, not spending all of his waking- and sleeping- hours with Crutchie and not having the Bowery to go to left Jack with a substantial amount of free time he wasn't used to. He was driving himself crazy just sitting in his bed sketching each evening, so he decided to go for a walk.

As he walked the streets somewhat aimlessly, he heard hushed laughter, coughing, and chatter coming from a thin alleyway. Jack narrowed his eyes.

"Hey what trouble are you fellas up to back in these shadows?" Jack demanded as he rounded the corner without warning. He knew his kids' voices from a mile away.

Specs sputtered and choked while Race scrambled to hide something behind his back. Two younger looking boys had already ran off, not wasting time to see who had busted them. Jack called after them, but they didn't slow down. He sighed and shook his head.

"Fork it up, Racer," Jack held out a hand.

Race grinned wickedly and ducked his head, making no move to hand over whatever this forbidden object was.

Specs was still choking. Jack gave him a good few pats on the back before the smell hit him.

"Are you givin' these kids liquor?!" Jack yelled.

"Hey, pipe down, will ya? Do ya think I paid for this?" Race slurred out, clearly already a few steps ahead of the others.

Jack ran a hand down his face. These kids would kill themselves without him. He bent down to Specs' level, calmly and sternly trying to coax him back to breathing. The kid's eyes were watering. He could only imagine the burn, gasping in shock with a mouthful of what he assumed was straight liquor.

"You go on back home, I gotta talk ta Race. Get some water in ya. If I catch you with this moron again, I'll box your ears, hear me? Get goin'," Jack told Specs. He pushed on the back of his head for good measure as he ran away.

When Jack turned around to speak, Race was drinking straight from the bottle.

"Gimme that!" Jack demanded.

Race dodged his reach. "Why? Want some?"

"No, you shouldn't-!" Jack stopped and sighed. Race kept faking him out. It was futile. "Ya know what? Yeah. I do."

Race giggled stupidly as he finally handed over the bottle. Jack took a swig and cringed. It was strong. Poor Specs had gotten a lungful of this?

"You're a monster, Racer," Jack said. He sat down with his back to the wall.

"Thanks," Race said, joining Jack on the ground. He reached for the bottle.

Jack gave it to him. "Ya can't give this stuff to them. They's small."

"Better they get sick with me around then go about tryin' ta act tough in front of people who know as much about nothin' as they do," Race said with a shrug as he took another drink.

Jack stared at him for a moment as he tried to piece that babble into something coherent, simultaneously being impressed by how much he was putting away.

"Hey, take it easy there. You ain't that big yaself," Jack took the bottle back from him.

"Giv't baaaaaaack," Race whined.

"Nah," Jack said. He took another swig, cringing again, before setting it to the side out of Race's reach.

Race sighed. "Too drink t'fightcha."

"If you's too drunk ta talk, you's too drunk ta drink," Jack told him.

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"Hey," Race sat up a little. "Ya drew me."

Jack stiffened. "...Eh?"

"Yeeeeaaaah! I 'most f'got to say somethin'. Crutch showed me," Race plopped back against the wall. "Kinda."

"Kinda?" Jack prompted, facing him.

"He w's tryin' ta get up da ladd'r, an' y'weren't around, so I wents ta halp 'im, an' dis paper fell out'is pocket. Took da other half 'cause I swore 't'was me and lo 'n b'hold," Race unceremoniously flopped around to face Jack. "Am truly flattered."

"Tsh. Shaddup. You needs sleep. I draw lotsa folks," Jack said. He started to get up.

Race gripped his sleeve. "I know. Went up da ladder wi'Crush da help 'im. He t'ld me not to 'cause you'd be all mad if I saw yer ssstuff."

Jack roughly shoved Race's arm away. "Ya went in my penthouse and went through my things?!"

Race lost his balance but not his grin as he lay flat on the ground. "Nah, Crush did. I washed."

"Right. Then ya saw I do in fact draw lotsa folks so you ain't special--"

"No, no, no. Mine's was the best. Y'was takin' y'time," Race sing-songed and fanned himself. "Do ya think I'm preeeettyyy?"

"No. I just wanted ta challenge myself and see if I could capture a mug as ugly as yours," Jack said. He bent down to hoist Race up.

Race clung to him like a child. "Don't furgt m' drimk."

Jack sighed, picking up the bottle and handing it to Race. They slowly made their way back to the lodge. The whole walk there, Race was giggling and leaning on Jack and making comments that Jack had to cover his mouth for. He eventually took the bottle from Race after watching him make several unsuccessful attempts to drink more. Jack decided he would finish it off himself as payment for putting up with this.

"You can tell me if ya thinks I'm pretty."

"Shutcha mouth."

"I won't tell nobody. Our secret."

"Racer. Stop."

"Just admit it. I'm beautiful."

"Don't give folks another reason to call me a queer. Come on."

Race had gasped at that one. "Aaaare you?"

"Are you?" Jack shot back.

Race giggled again. "Depends on who's askin'."

It took all of Jack's willpower to not drop and leave Race right there. He stopped responding to the commentary.

Finally, they made it back. It would have been Race's walk of shame had he been sober enough to here the laughter, whistles, and comments. Jack physically put him to bed.

"I tink you's pretty too, Jackie," Race mumbled half-asleep already.

Jack again did not answer. He turned around and made instant eye contact with Crutchie. Crutchie looked shocked. He glanced between the bottle in Jack's hand and Race on the bed a few times. Crutchie's eyes moved back up to meet Jack's, and Jack saw jealously. Some spiteful, malicious flame of anger lit within him at this realization. He took a long drink from the bottle, and while maintaining the eye contact with Crutchie reached around to ruffle Race's hair. With that, he left the lodge.

It was freezing, but the alcohol and mess of anger and confusion kept Jack distracted from that fact. He chugged and chugged from the bottle until his stomach was churning. He stomped down familiar streets through the biting wind, eyes and throat stinging. He kept plowing through feeling anything until he made it to the Bowery. It was long closed and locked, but Jack didn't know where else to go. He sat up against the back door and decided he'd wait here till the morning. Once he'd finished off the bottle, he laid down on the ground and slipped his eyes shut, drunken mind spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, please come interact with me on tumblr and/or leave me a comment! I thrive off of interaction and feedback. This story is so close to the end :')


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy this fic will probably get wrapped up this week. I truly didn't mean to drag it out this long...!

Jack woke, shivering violently from being outside all night, to a boot to the shoulder. "Hey, move along, kid! No loitering."

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, mumbling a half-hearted apology. The cop kicked him again.

"I got the picture, I'm goin'," Jack grumbled as he stood.

"He's just fine, officer. Thank you!" Medda's too-cheerful-too-early voice chirped from a short way down the street.

Jack grinned in spite of his sore shoulder and pounding headache. The officer didn't know there was no kindness in that tone. He puffed up as Medda neared him.

"I'm doing my job, ma'am. Whether or not this vagrant is with you--"

"My property, my consent to his presence," Medda said, stepping right up to the officer. "Go pick on someone your own size. If you ain't too afraid to, that is."

The officer huffed and puffed as he stormed away. Medda turned to Jack. His smiled quickly faded.

After a moment of silence, she asked him, "I take it you left that coward we talked about behind?"

Jack didn't remember the last time he cried. He didn't expect the tears until he was already sobbing against her chest. She held him tightly and pulled him inside without a word. Jack knew she had work to do, but she made no move to turn anything on or open any doors. She just sank to the ground with him and held him close while he cried and cried. Neither of them spoke. He was grateful for that.

After he felt rightly dehydrated, Jack started to slow down. He was the first to break the silence.

"I don't want this," he choked.

"Oh, honey," Medda pulled him even closer. "It's gonna be all right."

"No it ain't. How- how can ya say that?" Jack almost broke down again.

"Because you are very, very strong. And you've been the same way all your life. Only difference is now you know it," she said.

Jack lifted his face a bit to stop muffling his words. "But what do I do now that I knows?"

Medda leaned back, hands on his shoulders. "The same you've been doing. Making art. Helping kids. Dreaming your dream. None of that has to go away. You're still Jack."

"I don't like Jack," Jack said. "I don't wanna be Jack."

Medda squeezed him again. "Don't take Jack away from me just because you're worried over what will happen because of one part of him."

"I'm scared," Jack sobbed. "And one a the others knows now. Because I'm stupid. And I think I hurt Crutchie."

"Slow down, hon. Tell me what happened."

So, Jack did. He told her how he'd been thinking about it all week, how Crutchie always made him feel so strange before, how he thought he might have been feeling that same way towards a different boy- Race- before Crutchie, and how he'd drawn Race in detail once upon a time. He told her that Race had seen it recently, that Jack had been a bit drunk and not thinking and said _that word_ and how he thought Race had tried flirting with him. He told her how he'd used that to upset Crutchie more on purpose because he was upset about being ignored.

"So I don't get it, Miss Medda. Is we all..? Ya know...." Jack trailed off, not wanting to finish.

Medda shrugged. "You all could very well be, Jack. It's more common than you think. Though I wouldn't take your drunk friend too seriously, it does seem possible."

"What do I do?" Jack despaired once more.

"What do you want to do?" Medda asked.

"To not be like this," Jack said.

"You can ignore it, but you can't change it," She said. "Trust me. I've seen a lot in my day. Only bad comes from folks trying to change it. So, if that wasn't a problem, want would you want?"

Jack thought on it a moment, trying not to let fear and disgust cloud his thoughts. He recalled their first night of stargazing, the night when Crutchie made the marriage joke. Jack thought about that night a lot.

"I want... I wanna see him smile. You should see it. When we gets to talkin' and he looks out at the stars," Jack spoke quietly, nervously.

"Mhm?" Medda prompted him.

"I wanna be around him all the time. Well, heh, we do that already. 'Cept for lately," Jack continued. Medda kept nodding, encouraging him. His confidence built. "I want 'im to be happy, 'cause then I'm happy and I ain't worried so much. I wanna put him into my dream, take 'im with me. He hugged me real tight for a long time a while ago while we was talkin' about some serious stuff, and I couldn't... I dunno, handle that and function at the same time 'cause I just wanted ta keep doin' it forever, so I told all the fellas how he was clingin' onto me and bein' soft and they all made fun of him. So... I also wanna take that back so touchin' is easy again."

Jack faltered, running out of things to say. Miss Medda gave him another squeeze and one of her reassuring smiles before she got up and went about to set up for opening.

Though Jack's head was still pounding, he felt the pressure in his chest start to give way. He hadn't admitted half of those things to himself yet, let alone out loud. A bit of guilt crossed him. Half the boys at the lodge would do anything to have what he had in Medda. He owed her so much.

Carefully, he got up and followed the sounds her movement was making to the room she was in. When he entered, she looked confused, but smiled warmly when he began to help her clean up. He followed her wordlessly throughout the building to help her with the various opening tasks. It was a free front row seat to her softer singing, a voice she never used onstage. It helped ease his headache. Too soon, the sun was creeping up.

"I should get goin', don't wanna show up to no papes left," Jack said.

"Take care of yourself, dear. If you have time, do you think you could swing by this evening? I have a project I'd like you to start," Medda replied.

"Actually, Miss Medda, I think there's a fella I should be meetin' with. We got a talk that's long overdue," Jack said, smiling.

Medda smiled, seeming excited. "Tomorrow, then?"

Jack nodded. "Tomorrow."


	13. Chapter 13

Jack ran all the way back to the lodge. When he arrived, the bell had already rung. He waded through the bustling boys, shouting greetings and encouragement on his way to his bunk in the back. A small group of the younger boys were all trying to help Crutchie out of bed. Normally if Jack was absent, Race would step up, but he was currently dead to the world still asleep in his bed. Jack made a mental note of it, deciding he would snag a couple extra papers to try to make extra to buy Race something to eat.

"I got it from here. Thanks, fellas," Jack said to the boys. "Run on and get ready for the day."

Crutchie avoided eye contact with Jack as he helped him up. Jack pretended not to notice his anger. He tossed Crutchie his shirt and jacket, and the two of them made their way outside with the crowd. Jack purchased his papers and stepped aside to wait for Crutchie.

"Could I linger 'round ya today? We gotta talk about somethin' soon as we can," Jack said.

"'Sorry' takes just a second ta say," Crutchie answered, beginning to walk away.

"I'm sorry," Jack called after him. Crutchie stopped and turned. "I am. I'm sorry. It ain't right."

Crutchie looked out over the gathering of their friends, then back to Jack. A few of them were staring. Jack was publicly admitting he was wrong, a rare occurrence. Crutchie looked around again, skeptical.

Jack rolled his eyes and walked past him. "C'mon, we're wastin' daylight."

"What's goin' on with ya?" Crutchie said when he caught up to Jack.

"A lot of things, Crutchie. I'm wantin' to talk later about that conversation we had right before ya started ignorin' me. But we gotta get through the day first," Jack explained.

"About what Morris said to ya?" Crutchie ask, bewildered. "...Why?"

Jack didn't answer verbally, just looked Crutchie directly in the eye. He wasn't going to play it off anymore, and he wasn't going to look away. Crutchie stared back, opened his mouth like he was going to speak, closed it again, and looked away. Jack smiled a little. He had a feeling things really might be okay like Medda had said.

\--

"I'm out!" Jack called to Crutchie once his final customer seemed out of ear shot. "You?"

"Waitin' on you, pal," Crutchie called. He pushed himself up and crossed the street to Jack.

"I wanna grab a bite for Race on our way back. He's probably been down all day," Jack said.

"No doubt," Crutchie agreed. Jack was relieved he didn't sound angry.

They didn't talk as they walked. There was tension, but it was more anticipatory than awkward. Crutchie waited in the street while Jack ducked into a shop for the food. Jack smiled at him upon returning, and Crutchie smiled back, somewhat nervously. They continued on in silence. 

Jack made quick work of his usual evening routine of checking in on everyone. His heart was beating quickly, but for the first time he wasn't scared. He took a little more time to feed Race and talk to him. When everyone was looking away he slipped him a little coin. Race almost sobbed from gratitude. Jack assured him it was no problem at all, but proceeded to scold him for not taking care of himself. Race did his usual and tried turning it into a joke. Under usual circumstances, Jack wouldn't let him get away with it. But he had things to get to tonight.

Finally he was able to make his way back outside to find Crutchie shivering by the ladder to the fire escape. Crutchie smiled that same, nervous smile from before. Jack was still thinking about what he should say, so the climb was silent. Crutchie's demeanor slowly changed from endearing nervousness to bordering on panic as the silence dragged on. Jack wanted to help, he really did, but he was too busy being hyper aware of their shoulders touching and his own heartbeat and how if he didn't choose his next words carefully and say them quietly he might have to leave town quicker than expected. Thankfully, Crutchie broke the silence first.

"I'm glad ya brought me out here," He began, taking a deep breath. "I probably woulda lived and died with this all bottled up. But I gotta... I gotta say it, Jackie. I never thought I would, but ever since you told me what Morris said... I known I gotta say it."

"Say what, Crutchie?" Jack asked.

"I-I gotta tell ya. I gotta tell someone," Crutchie's voice shook. "It's eatin' me, Jack. Eatin' me inside out."

"Crutchie if ya told me ya killed some kid I'd help ya cover the corpse," Jack reassured him. "Ain't nothin' you could do to make me go nowhere. Ain't a single thing. Life partners."

Crutchie covered his face with his hands. "There's somethin' wrong with me, Jack. Somethin' in my head."

"Crutchie, c'mon. Ya scarin' the hell outta me. You gonna go runnin' off the edge of a rooftop or somethin'?"

"No, but I oughta," he bent over, curling in on himself and muffling his own voice. "I like boys. I look at 'em the way I'm s'posed ta look at girls," he lifted his head and stared at Jack with a frightening intensity. "Jack, I ain't ever wanted to kiss a girl. Never made no sense to me watchin' boys my age grow up and wanna take pretty girls nice places. I mean sure, girls is pretty, but I'd rather... Rather a boy," Crutchie's voice cracked. "Jack, you probably think I'm some kinda freak. 'Cause I am."

Jack stared at Crutchie. He couldn't believe it. Fear and hope alternated pumping through his veins. Never in his life had he ever heard another guy say the stuff he thought all the time.

"Crutchie... wouldja think I was some kinda freak if I..." Jack swallowed a lump. "If I told ya I just never got the difference?"

Crutchie shook his head. "I don't get whatcha mean, Jack."

Jack gestured vaguely in the air. "They's all the same to me, Crutchie. Boys and girls. I want... I want other guys like ya said but I want the girls like we's s'posed ta, too. I never knew what ta think. Never thought anyone else ever thought like me. 'Least a little. 'Till now," Jack stared back at Crutchie with the same fire.

"Jack..." Crutchie blinked at him. "This ain't... I ain't jokin', ya know that right? I'm real serious."

"I'm real serious, too, Crutchie."

"Ya sure ya ain't pullin' one on me?"

Jack shook his head vigorously.

"...Imagine my luck, then," Crutchie's voice grew weak and soft, laced with fear.

Jack could hear every single one of his own throbbing heartbeats in his skull. "Ya luck?"

"Jack..." Crutchie breathed out so soft it was hardly a sound at all. "There's this one guy I've been lookin' at more than the others."

Please, oh please, Jack begged out a silent prayer. Please Oh God say this is real.

"He a newsie?" Jack's voice had grown as soft as Crutchie's.

Crutchie nodded.

"One of our newsies?"

Crutchie nodded.

"You two close?"

Crutchie nodded.

"...He your best friend?"

Crutchie nodded.

"Is he lookin' you in the eye right this second and hopin' you're talkin' about him?"

Crutchie's whisper quivered, "I don't know 'bout the second part."

Jack reached out slowly to pull Crutchie close. "It's the truth." Crutchie let his head fall against Jack's chest. "So... are ya?"

"What?"

Jack's voice cracked. "Are ya talking 'bout him..?"

Crutchie nodded.

Jack's vision blurred with a wave of dizziness. He closed his eyes against it and hugged Crutchie tight and close. He never wanted to let go. The feeling seemed mutual as Crutchie clung to the back of Jack's shirt with tight fists. Nothing made any kind of sense but nothing to Jack had ever felt so right. He buried his face in Crutchie's nest of messy hair. The tension in his muscles started to relax. How could he possibly be this lucky? Medda was always right.

Suddenly Crutchie's fists were pushing against Jack's chest as he ripped himself from his grasp. It felt like a knife through Jack's chest until Crutchie spoke. "Folks is gonna see us up here."

Jack pulled Crutchie away from the edge of the railing until they were against the wall of the building. Once the shadows engulfed them completely, Jack squeezed him again.

"It's cold out, Crutchie. We'll tell 'em it's for warmth," Jack whispered into his hair.

"Okay," Crutchie whispered back. He pressed his face into Jack's chest.

"Hey, Crutchie?"

"Yeah, Jack?"

"Since when have ya been lookin' at that particular fella?" It was stupid and ego-driven, but Jack truly was curious.

Crutchie chuckled. "Well, that's hard to figure. It's been a long time. Feels like it was at first sight. But I think I realized it once I was sick that one time and you was goin' hungry without tellin' me just to try to make me better with your own pay. Kinda figured how no one else cared about me like that. Not even the other newsies. Never as much as you."

Jack smiled. "Ain't real hard for me to care so much. You been the light of my sad little life for a while now."

"How long's a while?" Crutchie asked, turning the question on Jack.

Jack thought about it a moment. "I meant what I said that day I found ya. Couldn't accept not havin' you with me. Could always tell how strong ya were. I been impressed with ya the moment ya opened ya mouth. Guess bit by bit I became more impressed every day, till..."

Crutchie pressed himself closer still. They stayed that way awhile, Jack tucking Crutchie's head under his chin and staring out at the night sky. This part of the city was pretty quiet tonight, but Jack's mind wasn't. His thoughts raced. This was probably the happiest moment of his life. He could hardly process it. If he could bottle what he was feeling and sell it, he'd put every bar in New York City out of business. He daydreamed about the silly scenario for a moment, about selling out businesses with his magic. Maybe he could get himself an education at a fancy school. Maybe he could get Crutchie to a real doctor. Maybe he'd have enough to finally get out of here. That thought led his mind elsewhere. What if, once he finally got away, he took Crutchie with him? He could just imagine the two of them embarking on that little adventure. No more limping around the messy streets of the city. He could just picture what a little fresh air and good food could do for Crutchie.

Happy smile on his face, Jack's eyes started to grow heavy. He drifted off, Crutchie asleep in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it!! Thank you for reading, especially if you stuck with me to the end. This was mostly self indulgent, short chaptered, nearly nonexistent plot, yadda yadda. But hey, I hope you enjoyed it anyway!   
> As always, my tumblr is @hopeful-broadwaybaby. I thrive on interaction and asks my friends. I also take requests over there!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Find me on tumblr @hopeful-broadwaybaby !


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